


our own private universe

by softambrollins



Series: our own private universe [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Cabin Fic, Feelings, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Romantic Getaway, lots of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 23:11:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20235937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softambrollins/pseuds/softambrollins
Summary: "I have everything I need," Dean says simply.Seth can't help but smile at that, atDean. Somehow this whole thing is just perfectlyhim. And maybe this is just what he needs now. Being out here, just the two of them, with nothing but sprawling nature surrounding them for miles and miles. Away from the cities and the crowds and the internet and all the noise and chaos of both their normal lives.





	our own private universe

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on actual stuff that happened this weekend, but beyond that, it has nothing at all to do with the real world. Which is how I like it these days. It's practically an AU, really. Where podcasts don't exist. I just like the idea of Dean Ambrose holing up in a cabin in the woods post-WWE, okay. This was just very therapeutic for me to write, personally.

Seth's been trying to get in touch with Dean all day, and there's been radio silence. Either his phone's dead, or lost, or he has no signal, or maybe he finally gave up and threw it into a river or something. He's starting to get a little worried. On one hand, it's _Dean_ and he could be anywhere in the world doing God only knows what at any point in time, but it's been a pretty significant weekend for both of them and this is unusual behaviour from him.

He finally picks up right before Raw starts.

"Hey, champ. What's up?" He sounds like he's okay. Not like he's at the bottom of a bottle or like he's out on the streets trying to start fights with strangers. So that's good at least.

Seth hopes his sigh of relief is not audible.

"Hey, I haven't heard from you in a while. What's going on?"

Dean doesn't say anything for a moment or two.

"Yeah, I'm good. I just needed some time. You know..." He sounds tired now, but also pretty chill. He sounds like _Dean_.

"Oh, okay. Yeah, I get that. So...are you back?" Seth asks, uncertain.

"Depends on what you mean by that." Now there's a bit of trademark Ambrose teasing in his words.

Seth would probably deny that he misses Dean's particular brand of weirdness, but he can't help but smile and shake his head.

"What are you talking about, man? Are you home?"

"Nope."

"So...where are you then?" he asks slowly, confused, wondering if he should be genuinely worried now.

Dean lets out an obviously exaggerated sigh for dramatic effect. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you, dude."

*

That's how a couple days later, Seth ends up getting out of an Uber about half a mile from where Dean told him to meet him and then trekking through the countryside with his suitcase in tow along a narrow dirt path. He isn't entirely sure what state he's even in anymore. Maybe that's the point. His phone doesn't have a signal so if he gets lost, then that's probably it for him. He just keeps walking in the general direction of where he's supposed to be going and hopes he eventually comes across something that looks like civilisation because right now, there's absolutely nothing in any direction he looks. Which isn't as disconcerting as it should be. There's something exhilarating about being out here in the wilderness, the only sounds the rustling of leaves and the calls of birds, gazing up and seeing nothing but wide, unobstructed sky.

He finally reaches what has to be his destination after trudging up the side of a hill, legs and lungs burning, but not unpleasantly, by the time he makes it to the top. It's a small log cabin, the only structure for miles and miles, and he just stares at it, trying to catch his breath. Wondering if he's hallucinating this entire thing. Maybe he's actually still in a hospital somewhere after getting knocked out weeks ago and all of this has just been an elaborate dream.

"You have to be fucking shitting me," he says to no one at all.

*

He's still just standing there and staring at the front of the cabin when Dean finally comes out to meet him. He's looking way too pleased with himself, which he should have expected.

Seth just turns his gaze to him, perplexed. "Did you take up axe murdering at some point in the last few months?"

Dean actually laughs and fuck, he missed that sound so much. 

"Seriously, this is an axe murderer cabin. Or a serial killer. Serial axe murderer. Is that a thing?"

It's an actual log cabin. Not like one of those fancy ones rich people have as vacation houses with hot tubs and personal chefs and giant TVs in every room. Seth's starting to wonder if maybe Dean didn't build the damn thing himself. Nothing will surprise him anymore.

"Does this thing even have running water?" Seth asks, raising an alarmed eyebrow at him.

Dean just folds his arms across his chest, looking irritatingly relaxed and at home exactly where he is, blending right into the background like a fucking postcard or something. "You know, you're complaining a lot for a guy who owns acres of cornfields in Iowa."

Seth pouts. "It's not _all_ cornfields," he protests weakly. "At least we have internet in Iowa."

Dean just smiles at him indulgently.

"I don't even know where we are on a map. We have no phone signal," he suddenly realises, brandishing his phone at him. "Do you even have a car out here? What if a real axe murderer killed us in our sleep? They wouldn't find the bodies for _weeks_—"

Dean just lets him ramble on for a few more moments, with a serene, almost fond, look on his face, until he finally runs out of breath.

"I have everything I need," Dean says simply.

Seth can't help but smile at that, at _Dean_. Somehow this whole thing is just perfectly _him_. And maybe this is just what he needs now. Being out here, just the two of them, with nothing but sprawling nature surrounding them for miles and miles. Away from the cities and the crowds and the internet and all the noise and chaos of both their normal lives. 

Seth finally drops his bags and puts his phone away and walks over to Dean, getting close enough that their knees touch, then their hips, before meeting his gaze. In the sunlight, he can see galaxies in Dean's blue eyes. Maybe they're just meant for him.

Dean instinctively hooks one arm around his waist, drawing him even nearer. Seth just lets out a sigh, before reaching up and placing a gentle hand on Dean's chest, feeling his warmth through his thin t-shirt. He closes his eyes for a second as he feels the steady beating of his heart under his palm.

He can't hear anything but his own breathing and Dean's. It's a rare sensation, to be _this_ alone. The warm summer breeze blows over both of them, against his face and through his hair, refreshing and cleansing almost, making him feel like someone else. They only stay like that for a minute or two, but the earth could have spun on its axis a million times and he wouldn't know the difference.

Seth opens his eyes. "You have everything you need, huh?" he says breathily, staring up at him. 

"Now I do," Dean answers, before leaning in and brushing his lips over Seth's, chaste and soft but with some underlying, pent-up intensity that sends a surge of electricity coursing through his entire body.

*

The inside of the cabin is pretty bare and simple but better than he'd imagined. There's a small, rustic kitchen with a tiny wooden table for two, a really cozy-looking den with a fireplace, and just one bedroom. And an actual shower, which seems like the one luxury he's afforded himself. So there _is_ running water, thank god.

Dean takes his stuff into the bedroom while he looks around. There's books littered around on every surface, hiking and camping equipment lying on the floor, and a shelf that's stacked with records. He flips through some of them absently. The most modern technology in here is apparently the record player sitting in the corner of the den. Looking out the window, he can see that his truck's parked behind the house next to his bike, answering his prior question of how he gets around. He'd mentioned that he rides into town if he needs to get supplies or a phone signal. Seth has no idea how far this town is, but it can't be that close from what he's seen. He guesses Dean likes it that way. No neighbours for miles. No traffic. No phones ringing. No one bothering him.

He thinks maybe he could get used to this. He hasn't looked at his phone in what feels like hours, and it's been totally fine. No anxiety whatsoever. Fresh air is apparently the cure for a lot of things. Being here with Dean might be the cure for the rest.

They haven't had a lot of time to spend like this, between the constant travelling around the globe and Dean filming movies and Seth's school and everything in their crazy fucking lives, but it's been so good and replenishing every time they managed to fit in a day or two. Following Dean's favourite trails out in the desert, picnicing on Seth's acreage in Iowa, just spending lazy mornings in bed, reaching for his hand across the kitchen table, curled up on the couch together watching cartoons or trashy reality TV.

Dean comes back out and starts making him coffee on the stove, exactly the way he likes it. Seth sits down just as Dean rests the mug in front of him, and takes the chair opposite him.

Seth stares at his coffee for a minute and then looks up at him again.

"So, are you okay?" he finally asks.

Dean shrugs and makes a face like that's an outrageous question. "Of course I'm okay. Look at me. I'm doing fucking amazing."

Seth frowns at him. "Are you sure? Sure this isn't an identity crisis or a cry for help or something?" he asks, gesturing to the cabin around them.

Dean groans. "Seriously? You really have to make this into a _thing_?"

"I'm not making it into a _thing_. _You're_ the one who told me to come," he counters. "I'm just making sure you're alright."

"I'm fine," he insists.

"Really?" he asks skeptically. "It's _me_, you know. You don't have to pretend if you're not okay."

"I asked you to come because I wanted to spend time with you. Why are you making this into some kind of fucking psychological intervention or something?"

"Because — Because you weren't happy. For a long time." Seth pauses to take a breath, one hand clutching his coffee tightly although he's not drinking it. "And then you left and you finally were. And I'm just making sure that this hasn't changed that." 

Seth sees Dean's expression change at that. And it's hard to look at him. Dean knows how guilty and shitty he still feels, not recognising sooner how bad it really was for him.

He reaches across and rests his hand over Seth's on the table, squeezes it firmly. Makes him look at him.

"Seth, I promise. I'm fine. I'm used to this, you know. We all are."

"It still sucks."

"Yeah, it does," Dean concedes. "But I'll live. So, what about you? Are you okay?"

Seth doesn't know, really. Everything's been strange and confusing recently. Having the belt back after everything he went through to reclaim it feels like a huge relief, but every time he looks at it now, he can't help but wonder if that's really all he needs.

"It's been fucking hard, the last couple weeks, not having you there," he admits. "But I made it through. And I was thinking about you all the time. You wouldn't have given up. So I couldn't."

"Hey, I'm happy. I'm so fucking happy for you," Dean assures him.

"You were amazing, you know, in the tournament," Seth says honestly. "And I can't wait to watch you kick Omega's ass."

Dean's lips quirk slightly at that.

They sit there for a few more minutes in silence, Seth slowly sipping his coffee, Dean just watching him like that's all he needs in the entire world. Peace and quiet and Seth.

"I'm gonna go unpack," he tells him eventually and Dean lets him go. 

*

He's bent over, haphazardly pulling stuff out of his bag when Dean comes inside. He straightens and turns around to look at him.

"Hey—" he starts before Dean reaches out and gently takes his face in both hands and pulls him into a deep kiss.

"Mmm," he sighs against his mouth contentedly.

Dean slides his fingers into the hair at the nape of Seth's neck, his thumbs lightly grazing over his jawline, making him tingle all over, as he kisses and kisses and kisses him, hungry and gentle and precise and wild all at the same time. He feels like he's been ruined and put back together, like Dean's hands and mouth are all over him. Like Dean's mark is on him, every inch of skin, the blood flowing through every vein and artery, every organ, every cell. Like he's claimed him, body and soul. It's a feeling that's never going to go away, no matter how many times Dean kisses him or touches him or looks at him or says his name from thousands of miles away.

"I missed you," Dean tells him when they break apart, both panting slightly, foreheads resting against each other, Dean's hands still framing his face.

"I missed you too," Seth murmurs before being dragged back in, the gravitational effect of Dean's mouth and skin and body as strong and inexorable as the forces that keep the planets in orbit.

*

After what feels like a long time of just intense making out on the surprisingly comfortable bed, they finally separate and Seth tucks himself against Dean's side, head resting on his chest, while Dean plays with his hair. They don't talk about anything, just drinking in being near each other again. It's always like a drug they can't get enough of.

"You remember before Wrestlemania when you told me I didn't have anything to prove to anyone, just myself?" Seth tells him quietly. "Well, _you_ don't have anything to prove to anyone. You already proved everything when you left on your terms to do exactly what you wanted to do. I'm proud of you."

It's hard, not having this all the time, Dean not being there in some of the toughest times, and Seth not being able to be there for Dean when he needs it too, but he wouldn't trade it for anything. Dean's happiness. Him being exactly who he was meant to be. Even if it's not with him. They're different people, always have been, and they want different things. And that's okay, because at the end of the day, _this_ is always the most important thing to him. This feeling is bigger than anything else he's ever felt. It's bigger than both of them. Sometimes he thinks that it's strong enough to destroy universes. Or create them. This kind of feels like their own universe right here right now. Seth doesn't believe in a lot of things, but he believes in them. 

Dean drops a soft kiss on his forehead and it feels like gratitude, feels like belonging, feels like everything they don't need to say to each other because they already know.

*

Dean actually makes him dinner and they sit around and eat pasta and drink wine and they talk about the last few weeks and everywhere they've been and everything that's happened since they last saw each other.

It's always amazing how they can fall right back into old patterns. Joking and bantering and laughing at stupid shit and all the ridiculous and awesome things that make up their lives. 

"I miss Japan," Dean says with a wistful sigh. 

"I can tell," Seth says, nodding. 

"I miss being in Japan _with you_," he says, almost like a confession. "Or just like travelling around the world. Together."

"Maybe we can do that again. Someday," he says earnestly.

"I think that's why I came out here in the first place," Dean muses. "It feels like a different country, a different planet. No one knows who I am. I can just be myself out here." 

"Why'd you ask me to come then?" Seth asks, genuinely curious.

"It's a secluded cabin in the middle of nowhere," Dean says matter-of-factly. "This is pretty much what I wanted since I met you."

"Oh, so that's what you wanted?" Seth says with a smirk. "To kidnap me and take me back to your axe murderer lair? I should have known."

"Yeah, that's been my plot all along. To seduce you and make you fall in love with me and just when you think you can trust me, here comes all the blood and the screaming."

The casual way he says the word _love_ still makes something go all funny in his stomach.

"I'm glad you asked me to come, you know. I think this is exactly what I needed. Just you and me. Far away from the rest of the world."

"Yeah, they can all fuck off," Dean agrees.

"Yeah, fuck the world. I want you all to myself. I don't care if it's selfish." There's a bit too much truth in it, but he doesn't care anymore. 

Dean makes a small noise of frustration in the back of his throat.

"I really wanna take all your clothes off right now," he tells him, voice low and intent, eyes fixed on his own, pupils dark and blown wide. 

Seth feels his mouth go dry. He licks his lips slowly. "What else is a secluded cabin in the middle of nowhere for, right?" 

*

Dean pins him against the bedroom wall, not kissing him, just pressed warm and heavy against his body, from knees to hips to chests, his breath against his neck, his hands wandering up under his shirt. He thinks he could pass out just from the closeness, the heat. He wraps his arms around Dean's shoulders, tightly, fingers curling into his nape. Dean presses open-mouthed kisses to his throat and it feels like he's been branded everywhere his lips touch. 

He gasps and Dean steals the sound with his mouth. He leans into the kiss, desperate for more, but Dean pulls away too soon. Instead he turns him around so his chest is pressed against Seth's back, his arms around his waist. He slides his fingers under the hem of his shirt and tugs it up and over his head. He slowly caresses one hand down his chest and then dips it under the waistband of his jeans, under his underwear, only teasing, but driving him fucking crazy already. He feels like he's catching fire and everywhere Dean touches is just dousing it in more gasoline. He tangles his fingers in his hair and kisses the back of his neck, a sensitive spot, rough and wet, teeth grazing his skin. Seth moans wantonly and lets his head fall back onto his shoulder, eyes closed, letting Dean hold him up with his body. Something about all of this, about being in the middle of nowhere and no one else even knowing where they are, is enough to pretty much remove any inhibition he's ever had. He didn't think this could get any better than it already was but he's been proven wrong a lot today and he actually doesn't mind any of it one bit.

Dean slides his fingers down over his hair until he's cradling the base of his skull and Seth tilts his head around so he can meet Dean's mouth with his own. There's something sweet and tender about the kiss, even in the midst of all this burning _need_ between them, and Dean takes it as an invitation to unbutton his pants and slip his hand down into his underwear in earnest. 

Dean touching him like this is always a transcendental experience. But this time, it's like his brain's shut off completely and he's _all_ nerve-endings. All feeling. It's strangely calming and unbearably intense at the same time. Just Dean's hands — on him, touching him, wanting him. It's incredibly surreal and also the safest, most familiar thing in the world. His grip is firm, solid, but he's stroking him slow and steady, speeding up every so often but then pulling back just when he's just at the edge, when he can feel the tremors in his body, when his soft gasps are about to crescendo, when he's rutting helplessly into his hand. Like they have all the time in the world. And maybe they do. Maybe they've actually been teleported to an alternate universe where no one and nothing else exists but them, but _this_. It feels like the perfect torture.

Dean kisses him again, more heated and desperate this time. He can feel how hard he is against his hip. And he has to reluctantly untangle himself and turn back around and press himself close against his front, whispering breathlessly right against his ear, "I want you inside me."

He strips the rest of his clothes off before he gets onto the bed, limbs splayed out around him. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, heart thumping loudly in his ears, skin flushed and buzzing in anticipation. Dean quickly discards his own shirt and jeans and adds them to the pile of clothes on the floor before climbing onto the bed, his body covering Seth's.

He grabs both his wrists, pinning them over his head with his own hands. Seth's eyes fall shut and he throws his head back, completely exposed, as he lets Dean ruin him in whatever way he wants to.

It's instant sensory overload, skin everywhere, Dean's tongue in his mouth, the shock of him hot and hard right next to where Seth's hard, no barrier between them, feeling everything Dean feels acutely. His eyes fly open wide, taking rapid shallow breaths, like he's just realised where he is and what's happening and it's _a lot._

Giving up control like this doesn't come naturally to him, especially when everything is always so, so intense with them. Even when it's Dean and he trusts him more than he's ever trusted anyone. And maybe it's scary _because_ of how right it feels, because it feels like Dean's inside his head all the time. Maybe knowing each other this well is a double-edged sword. But it's okay. It'll just take some time to get there. Something tells him that even after a million times, this is never going to stop feeling like this, though. And something about that makes his blood thrill excitedly.

Dean lets his arms go, reaches down to gently tip his chin up like he's sensed him becoming overwhelmed by everything and says soothingly, "Hey, stay with me." Seth just takes a few deep breaths, trying to school his heart rate back to normal, and nods at him. A silent _I'm okay. Please don't stop._

Dean kisses him everywhere he can reach, from his neck down over his chest, his abs, licks inside the dip of his hipbones. Almost reverent. He doesn't touch him again and it feels deliberate. He just bites the inside of his thigh, his rough beard grazing against his tender skin so, so close to where he needs him the most. Each touch produces a tiny explosion all over his body like a domino effect leading to his hot, straining core.

He still doesn't touch him, though. Instead he procures a small bottle of lube from somewhere, pours a generous amount over his fingers, and starts working him open, bit by bit, painfully slowly, Seth biting down on his lip almost hard enough to draw blood, knuckles white where both his hands are fisted tightly in the sheets, legs struggling to stay still. He can come from just this, Dean knows, but that's not the goal right now. Some other time he'll wordlessly press himself close up against him and take his clothes off and make him fall to pieces without touching him while Seth chants his name like a litany.

Dean grazes his prostate with a precise, measured stoke and his vision whites out for a second and he lets out a sound that's almost a hiss of pain. Dean raises his head to check on him. "You okay?" 

"Yeah, yeah, keep going," he says urgently, voice already hoarse.

Dean grazes against him again and again, fingers curling inside him gently, coaxing soft whimpers from his throat with each brush, his hips raising off the bed seeking more friction. 

He has no idea how Dean's so good at this, his fingers somehow always knowing exactly where all his most sensitive pleasure spots are without him saying a word, and he suddenly has the desperate urge to make Dean feel as good as this feels for him.

"Wait, _wait_," he exhales, and Dean's fingers pause their deft motions inside him, his gaze trailing up to his face. "I wanna be on top."

"Okay," he says, with a nod.

Dean slowly slides his fingers out and Seth instantly misses the clutch of heat deep inside him.

He wraps his arms around Dean's shoulders and carefully rolls them over, sliding down his body so he can curl his hand around the base of him and suck the head of his hard dick into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around him, already tasting the salty earthiness in his mouth. He pulls off for a second and takes a deep breath through his nose before he's diving back in and swallowing him down deep, hollowing out his cheeks, his tongue moving over the shaft with each long stroke.

Dean's usually pretty quiet except for a colourful array of swear words but he can't seem to keep in the guttural groan when he hits the back of Seth's throat. It's pretty satisfying and he bobs his head up and down a few more times, taking him in as deep as he can before releasing.

He grabs the lube from where Dean had flung it before and empties some in his palm before slicking him up liberally. He keeps his hand on the base of him, lines his hips up, slowly lowers himself onto him. There's a tiny moment of resistance and then Seth relaxes all his muscles, lets out a long breath and gradually takes him in to the hilt, adjusting himself to the feel and the fullness inside him. It's always a completely thrilling and somewhat earth-shattering sensation. It's hard to wrap his mind around it when it's not actually happening, and when it is, all he wants is to stay like this forever. 

Dean holds onto his hips tightly, his fingers probably leaving bruises behind, as he tries some experimental movements, Dean sliding almost all the way out and then deep back in again, finding the right rhythm, before he speeds up and starts riding him with total abandon.

He figures this isn't gonna take that long now from how hard and tight Dean feels inside him, and the way he's now hitting his prostrate with every stroke. Dean releases one of his hands and closes his fingers around Seth, manages a couple weak strokes before Seth grabs his hand, bringing it to his mouth and sucking his fingers in, wetting them with his tongue. Then he lets go so Dean can wrap his hand around him again, sliding smoother over him, thumbing at the head of his leaking dick.

He clenches hard around Dean at the contact and Dean twitches violently inside him and he lets out a raw animalistic sound and then he's grabbing him roughly by the hips and flipping them back over, Seth's legs around his waist. He thrusts hard, once, twice, three times, fucking deep into him and into the mattress and then he's spilling hot and sudden inside him, muffling his moans into his neck.

He keeps thrusting into him while stroking him, _faster, faster_, until he comes all over his hand and stomach with a startled shout.

They stay there in a messy, sweaty heap of limbs for a while, legs still shaky, breathing hard, until Dean rolls off of him heavily. 

"_Fuck_," is all he says at the ceiling, sounding dazed, before his head drops onto a pillow, looking completely wrecked.

Seth's never been more in love in his life.

*

After taking about an hour to come down from the high, they step outside under the inky blue sky and find the best view spot, standing side-by-side, watching the stars beginning to come out.

Seth sighs. "Do we have to go back? Can't we just stay here forever?"

"Nah, what will Twitter do without us?" Dean deadpans. 

"Shut up," Seth says, rolling his eyes and elbowing him playfully in the side.

Dean mimes falling down the side of the hill next to them while Seth tries and fails to act exasperated by his dorkiness. Then he comes back over to him, presses himself against his side, slinging one arm around his hips. Seth leans his head on his shoulder and takes a deep breath. Of him, of the night, wanting to hold this moment close forever.

"I wish everything was as simple as this," Dean says, right against his ear, and it takes him by surprise for a second. He's rarely ever this earnest and it always feels like a revelation. Seth wishes that too, hopelessly, desperately. When he's with Dean, this feels like the only thing that matters. It feels like he would give up everything else for this and that should be terrifying but looking at him now, it just makes everything less uncertain, so much clearer. 

It's like this place somehow, this tiny cabin surrounded by rolling hills and woods all around and vast, infinite sky above, not knowing where you are on earth but not caring, something simple but bigger than anything else you can imagine at the same time. Like the earth belongs to you as much as you belong to it. That indescribable feeling of rightness and _home_.

"I never thought I could feel like this about anyone. It, like, knocks the breath out of me every single time. It's like a punch to the heart. In a good way." Seth always sounds like a crazy person when he tries to talk about what he feels for Dean, so that's why he doesn't. 

Dean just turns to look at him for a moment before reaching out and brushing his hair back with both hands and then leaning in and pressing his mouth to Seth's in a brief but lingering kiss. 

"I'm gonna love you forever," he says, summing it all up more succinctly and eloquently than Seth ever could with a million words, the way Dean always does. 

Dean takes his hand and together they watch the stars, feeling like tonight they belong to just the two of them.


End file.
